


History, According to You

by mumb0o_jumb0o



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:02:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumb0o_jumb0o/pseuds/mumb0o_jumb0o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’ve always been a creative writer. It was your major in college. Well, it was your major until you dropped out once the Winchesters found you. They needed you, they had said. You were important, they had said. This is the story of your adventure. Dealing with angels, demons, prophets, the Winchesters, and your newly found gift. </p><p>*********this is from the readers perspective, (your characters name is Harper Jones)********</p>
            </blockquote>





	History, According to You

**Author's Note:**

> so i'm new to this whole thing, but i wanted to go ahead and post the first chapter of this series/story.  
> i don't know how many chapters i will be writing/uploading. i just wanted to get my writing out there. 
> 
> i know there are some messy writing things in here, i'll edit and clean up later.  
> comments and suggestions are always appreciated! 
> 
> thanks for reading :)

 

 

**Chapter One: You Didn't Study For This**

 

It was Wednesday. You had a test tomorrow. It was a short-answer/essay type of test. You both loved and hated those, but since writing is part of your major, you don’t really worry all that much. You look through your notes a couple of times, and being the perfectionist you are, you even write out a few short possible prompts that could be given to you tomorrow.

“Oh god, it’s already midnight…” You mumble.

You’ve been up reading and writing down random little stories for fun. Tomorrow morning ought to be fun, you think to yourself as you put all of your supplies away.

You set your alarm to the god awful time of 7:30 in the morning. You curse yourself for registering for an 8 a.m. class. Good thing you don’t have anyone to impress in that class, or you’d have to wake up earlier. _If I needed to impress someone for them to like me, I wouldn’t even waste my time_ , you laugh to yourself as you finally doze off to sleep.

 Wow… you were so wrong about not having anyone to impress in this class.

Your professor had failed to mention that she wouldn’t be in class today. She also failed to mention that your substitute was going to being incredibly handsome. So much so, that you hope he pushes the test back because, no matter how easy this test will be, you’ll more than likely be distracted. Oh boy…

The young professor is dressed in a fitted, blue, stripped button-down shirt. It is perfectly tucked into his dark-wash denim jeans, held up by a brown leather belt that has some aging to it. He must wear it all the time. The belt compliments his brown loafers. He doesn’t seem like the type to wear them on a regular basis. Maybe he just wears them for the job. His hair. Good god, man. It’s a light brown, falls to about the tops of his shoulders, parted down the middle.

He is beautiful.

He reaches for a marker and starts to write his name on the board.

Professor Samuel Winchester.

 _Samuel Winchester_. You’ll never forget that name.

He turns to look at the class. “uh...sorry that ya’lls normal professor isn’t here. She… uh… had a prior engagement that she couldn’t miss.” He seems nervous. It’s adorable. “But, you still have a test today, so I’ll pass these out and then you can begin. You are allowed to leave once you have finished the test. Make sure your name and student ID number are written somewhere on the test when you turn it in.” He towers over the desks, the man is a giant, and walks around the lecture hall, passing out tests and giving small smiles to everyone he makes eye contact with.

Including you.

Your breath hitches as his eyes meet yours and he gives you the test.

It seems like he needs to tell you something, or maybe it’s just your imagination.

You look down at the test he has given you, but it’s a blank piece of paper with an address written on it.

_What?_

You look at him with confused eyes, but he looks away and just sits down at the desk. You stare at the paper for at least five minutes, pretending you’re writing so other students don’t think you’re just sitting there. You have no idea why he gave this to you. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do. Every so often, you feel Professor – Sam’s – eyes on you. You never meet his gaze. As the other students begin to finish the test and leave the room, you think about what you should do. You've come to the conclusion that you have no fucking idea what to do…

The last student turns in their test. You slowly stand up, grab your things and the paper, and you head towards the door.

“Harper Jones?” a stern voice asked from behind you.

You turn and see that it’s Professor Winchester – Sam – calling your name.

“Uh…” You hesitate, not sure if this could end well or end badly, “yes?”.

His eyes looked relieved. “Oh thank god, we have been looking all over for you!”

“We?” You asked, just as a shorter man (but still taller than you) stepped into the lecture hall.

“Yeah, ‘we’ have been driving for days hunting you down, girl,” the shorter one coughed.

“I’m Sam, and this, “ your 'professor' was pointing to the shorter one,” is my brother, Dean.”

You were so confused. You wanted to run. They totally sensed that and the shorter one, Dean, ran to block the exit. “Just hear us out," Dean huffed,"and we will explain everything.”

Sam calmly spoke as he inched towards you. “We just want to figure a few things out..”.

You are beyond freaked out. How do they know who you are? How did they find you? Who are they? What do they want? A million questions ran through your head. One came out of your mouth, though. “What the hell do you need to ‘figure out’?”.

Dean looked at you. “You don’t know?” He asked as if you were stupid. As if you had any idea what was going on.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT?” You didn’t mean to scream, but they weren’t giving you any answers and your anxiety was flying through the roof.

Sam stepped closer to you and rested his hand on your shoulder. “We need to figure out what you’ve been writing about…because…well…” He eyes dropped to the floor.

You stopped breathing. Your heart fluttering.

“Because you have a gift. And your stories are coming to life and not all of them are, you know, all happy-go-lucky…” Dean smugly finished his brother’s sentence.

Yeah. You stopped breathing for a long time. Until the edges of your vision became dark and fuzzy.

Next thing you knew, you were in the back of a car listening to horribly old rock music and two brothers arguing about what to do next.


End file.
